


when the sun shines too brightly

by kurdoodle



Category: PRISTIN (Band), SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Childhood Friends, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 01:24:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15741282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurdoodle/pseuds/kurdoodle
Summary: too much of a good thing leaves junhui confused when the shadows shift and he finds himself lost within them





	when the sun shines too brightly

**Author's Note:**

> i love pledis china line so much :(

“You know,” Jieqiong says. Junhui is distracted momentarily by the glow of her lip gloss against the sunlight streaming through the restaurant window. “This is almost like a date, now that Minghao isn’t here.” Her eyes are shimmering now (but when are they not?), and he almost wants to believe that she is right.

He hesitates for a second, then forces out a laugh. Jokes are meant to be laughed at.

He takes her out for ribs and steak to celebrate her acceptance into university, which happens to be the same one that Minghao and Junhui now attend. He would be lying if he said that he hasn’t been looking forward to this: the three of them together again, unbreakable. Minghao had trailed hot on his heels and it was natural for her to follow suit.

Jieqiong laughs at something that Junhui had said absentmindedly, and by now her lip gloss has disappeared into smears onto her napkin. Some barbecue sauce still lingers near her mouth, and maybe if Minghao were here, the younger one would not think twice about casually wiping off the stray sauce with his thumb.

In the past, Junhui would have, too.

When she practically smothers him with a bear hug in gratitude as he pays for the bill, he wonders why all he can think of is the flowery scent of her shampoo and her warm hands pressing into his back and her breath against the nape of his neck. Something in his stomach twists, but when she finally unlatches herself and says thank you for the nth time, he manages to smile.

“You’re welcome, Jieqiong,” he says.

He doesn’t know why, but he feels a little sick.

  
  


 

 

 

 

To Junhui, Minghao is his compass.

They meet when Junhui is seven years old, when the younger one moves into the apartment next door. Minghao is six.

Despite being younger, Minghao always has had a way of standing his ground, speaking what’s on his mind, carrying around with him a certain aura that leaves Junhui in awe. Whatever he did seemed important: tying his shoes a specific way, putting pocket change on the counter of the convenience store in exchange for two popsicles (red bean for him, lychee for Jun), spearheading their sand castle architectural plans in their families’ yearly excursions to the beach.

It is Minghao who brings Jieqiong into the picture; they had crashed into each other in the apartment building lobby, when Minghao was too busy trying to learn yoyo tricks to notice that the new girl in the building was about to get smacked with the toy. Luckily, Jieqiong had the reflex to yelp in surprise, jolting Minghao out of his daze. They walk in together into Junhui’s living room later that day. “She likes green tea flavor,” is what Minghao says as he distributes the three popsicles that he had bought earlier. Red bean for him, lychee for Jun, and green tea for her.

Jieqiong. Green tea suits her, he has always thought. Refreshing, a particular aftertaste, lingers longer on the tongue (and mind) than you would initially think. Like Minghao, she is strong-headed and sharp, but Junhui learns that they are both round at the edges. When Junhui decides to enter the wushu competition in the high school division, Minghao foregoes getting the new shoes he needed in order to buy Junhui a new uniform to replace his worn-out one, and Jieqiong makes sure that he eats breakfast every morning and never ceases to have a wealth of pastries at her disposal for the times that he’d felt like giving up. They fight for him in all the little ways, fight almost as if they are the ones in the competition, fight so that Junhui can fight even harder.

It makes up for the times when the two of them clash and Junhui finds himself in the middle. He is good at being a big brother - everyone around them agrees. The mediator. The neutralizer. When he first leaves for university, leaving the other two back at home a few cities away, he jokes that they better not eat each other whole before he comes back to visit for break. What he doesn’t anticipate (or maybe he secretly did) is that they come visit him right when he begins school, popsicles in tow and literal sunshine reflected in their giddy grins.

Sometimes, Junhui thinks, the sun can be blinding. Too much of a good thing can leave you confused when the shadows shift and he finds himself lost within them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“So when are you moving in?” Minghao asks. They’re lounged on the couch, stained from years of being passed down from apartment to apartment, thoroughly abused and worn out. It is still comfortable, with a blanket thrown over it, to say the least.

Junhui has a habit of picking at the edges of the blanket, while Jieqiong attempts to swat his hand away. “A week from today,” she says in a sing-song voice.

“Well you know who’s going to be there to help you lift all your heavy stuff,” Minghao replies, giving her a nudge.

“You too, Jun?” she turns toward him, who’s now resumed his preoccupation with the edges of the blanket. It looks frayed. Maybe he should get a new one.

He stares back at her, suddenly aware of both pairs of eyes fixed on him. “Yeah, I’ll be there,” he finally breathes out, hoping that they do not notice the slight tremble in his voice. He doubts it, but it doesn’t hurt to hope.

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

“Hey, I’m here, ready to flex,” Junhui jokes, when he shows up in front of Jieqiong’s dorm. He has the self-awareness to cringe at himself, letting out an uneasy laugh. But she’s beaming at him, and it mirrors the morning sun.

“Great, thank you! We’re almost done here though because Hao decided to come a bit earlier,” she says, pointing to Minghao, who emerges from around the corner with another box. “You can help us finish up.”

He has to remember to stop staring, not because Minghao looks exceptionally good today in his muscle tee (but then again, is he really that surprised), but because somehow it feels like he has lost a race that should not have even been a race to begin with.

“There’s just a few more in the truck,” Minghao says, and Junhui nods. He cannot help but notice the way that Minghao’s gaze softens when Jieqiong comes up to him to fix the hair that has gotten into his eyes.

When he has some alone time with her for a minute, he asks, “Why didn’t you call me to come earlier?”

She shrugs. “I thought you’d want to sleep in. You seem tired these days.”

Minghao comes up from behind him and tackles him as he sets the last box on the floor. “Yeah, sleepyhead,” the younger one says. And normally, Junhui would engulf him with his arms and smother him to death, but today he doesn’t.

They end up finishing the move-in process in no time. They’re sitting on her bed as she flits back and forth organizing her closet. It’s one of those times when they are just content to watch and listen as she blabbers about random incidents that pop into her mind or different ideas that she has for the year or her excitement about the new semester.

Once in a while, when Junhui is not too busy admiring the way that Jieqiong’s hair cascades down her back and bounces as she moves, he looks to his side at Minghao too, who is probably noticing and admiring the same exact thing.

Minghao has always had a sweet smile. For some reason, the one he is wearing right now is even more cavity-inducing.

His heart aches even more.

  
  
  


 

 

 

“I’m not surprised,” Junhui chuckles. “We all know that Jieqiong’s quite the popular one. Especially with the guys.”

Minghao lays down on the grass next to Junhui, looking up the wide expanse of hazy sky above them. “There are rumors. Have you heard them?”

“No. About her?”

“Yeah,” Minghao says. Thoughtfully. He draws out his words now, as if he’s testing them on his tongue. “They are saying that one of us is dating her. The jury is out on which one of us, though.”

He can hear the wary smile in Minghao’s voice. Junhui continues staring at the sky, even as he senses Minghao turning his body to look at him. “Well, rumors are just rumors,” he settles. “Whoever she _does_ date will have to go through both of us though,” he jokes. “Not that we have that kind of authority, but I like to think that she values our opinions.”

He thinks back to the multiple times when Jieqiong had cried about a crush that had wronged her somehow or had come skipping back from a movie date with yet another whirlwind high school romantic interest. “If someone makes her cry again, I might whip out that lucky wushu uniform you got me last time and put it to good use again,” he laughs.

“Mmm,” Minghao hums in reply. “Our Jieqiong only deserves the best, right?”

This time, Junhui tears his eyes away from the swath of gray above them. There’s that faraway look in Minghao’s eyes again.

Something in his heart sinks when the thought that creeps into his mind at this moment is that, maybe, Minghao is the one who is best for her. Part of him would be relieved because it’s Minghao, and Minghao is their compass, their anchor, and doubtless he would be and has always been good to them. To her.

But part of him hopes that it would be him instead. Junhui: despite all his shortcomings and places where he doesn’t measure up to what she deserves.

  
  
  
  


 

 

Once, Minghao has to leave for class, and it’s just the two of them left at the cafeteria. Junhui is still picking at his food. Judging by their plates, her appetite severely outweighs his today, when usually it’s the opposite.

“Is everything okay?” He wants to believe that there is a certain tenderness in her voice.

He doesn’t dare meet her gaze and instead fumbles around with his chopsticks a little more. “Yeah.”

“Look at me,” she peers closer to him and scrutinizes his face. “You are not very good at lying.”

“I’m fine, I promise.”

“You can talk about whatever it is, you know.”

“I’d rather not,” Junhui says, to his better judgment. An image flashes across his mind, something about a sun that blinks in the distance, shifting shadows, the growing feeling of desperation to be free from their entanglement, yet a reluctance to go back into the light. He looks at her now, sees someone that he would like to love forever, and thinks sadly to himself that there’s no going back to the way things were, even if he wanted to.

“Okay, we don’t have to talk about it then. Remember when two years ago you won the competition and I made you the best _jianbing_ ever? You said that the taste of that will always remind you of happiness,” she smiles now at the memory. “I’ll make some for you later today, if you let me borrow your kitchen.” She nudges him lightly.

Junhui smiles. He wonders what has changed in the two years of relative distance since then. Not that Jieqiong hadn’t taken advantage of small breaks from her hell hole of college entrance exam studying to barge into Junhui’s apartment, having dragged Minghao from his dorm, just so that they could binge on ice cream and waste their lives away watching TV. Back then, she had claimed that they were her antidote for all things horrible going on in her life.

Maybe he had been in love with the idea that he was needed.

Now, as she comforts him and rubs small circles onto his back, even when she doesn’t know the reason for his heartache, he thinks that he’s also in love with the idea that he needs her, too.

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

Indeed, Jieqiong makes the best _jianbing_. She looks right at home in his apartment, kicking off her shoes casually and belting random phrases from songs as she cooks. Junhui insists on helping but she just shushes him and tells him that this time she’s the one to treat him, so he should just sit there on the couch with the ugly blanket that looks like it narrowly escaped death in the washing machine. Her words, not his. Junhui laughs at her remark, and then makes a mental note to actually go and buy a new blanket.

“Thank you,” he says, mouth half-filled with food. She grins, looking proud of her work.

Her phone vibrates with an influx of texts. He raises an eyebrow as she checks the notifications and rolls her eyes. “I can’t believe Chengxiao went behind my back to give my number to him.”

“Who?”

Jieqiong waves her hand dismissively. “Just some guy in your year. Chengxiao’s friend or something. I told him I don’t take random guys’ phone numbers.”

Junhui swallows. Takes a gulp of water and sets it back down on the table. “Would you, though? What if there was some guy you were actually interested in?”

She shrugs and uses her chopsticks to steal a piece of his _jianbing_ off of his plate. “Don’t need to. I have you guys, right?” She smiles, her eyes curving into the prettiest moon shapes that he’s ever seen.

“I’d go for Minghao if I were you,” he blurts out, but only because that’s just what he believes himself. Of course, the aftertaste on his tongue is bitter.

She freezes, chopsticks in mid-air. “I-is that so?” Finally remembers to finish bringing the chopsticks to her lips. “Is that what you think?”

“It’s Xu Minghao. Any girl would die to be with him.” _He likes you, you know._

“Yeah?”

“Y-yeah.”

There’s something he can’t quite read in her eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she says.

The aftertaste lingers longer. _Wen Junhui, you’ve really outdone yourself this time_ , he thinks to himself.

  
  
  


 

 

Two weeks pass and to say that Junhui feels like he’s suffocating is an understatement. Somewhere in this time window, he procures a new blanket to cover the couch, consumes an unhealthy amount of lychee-flavored popsicles, and accidentally-on-purpose isolates himself - his attempt at escaping the shadows that threaten to engulf him, even for a bit. He doesn’t want to meddle in anything he should have no part in.

Midterm season is coming up, and although he usually isn’t one to be super diligent, he holes himself up in the library. He would be safe here. Nowadays he hangs out with his classmate Yanan, whose study habits and smarts are finally rubbing off on him (thank God).

Perhaps there is part of him that still wishes for more than he should - and treats this as a self-improvement project, to make up for the things he lacks, so he can be better. For himself. (For her, too.)

He finds out that one of his hidden talents is managing to stay, well, hidden. Minghao has to physically knock on his door to get some face time with him.

"Haven’t seen you in so long. Are you _that_ busy studying these days?” Minghao is saying as they sit in the living room. Junhui is momentarily distracted because for some reason, the living room light is exceptionally blinding today. That, and Xu Minghao in the flesh before him, is altogether disorienting.

“Yeah, my classes are hard this semester. You’ll understand once you’re an upperclassman.” Junhui hopes that he’s being convincing enough. And plus, it is true that it’s about time that he pays more attention to his studies.

“Yeah, but I mean, we miss you.”

His heart clenches. Usually, he’s not the one to start these things. Usually, he’s the mediator, the neutralizer, the one who glues them all together. “How has it been? Have you two still been hanging out?”

“W-well, I mean, yeah, sometimes. It’s not the same though,” Minghao sighs.

“That’s good. I mean, it’s good that you are still hanging out with her. Some guy got a hold of her phone number and he better not still be harassing her with texts. Like you said, Jieqiong deserves the best… I’m glad you are there just in case, well, anything happens… yeah, well, I’ve just been really busy but it’s good you have each other….” He’s rambling, but his brain feels like mush and his heart is an even bigger mess. No amount of Yanan’s study tips could remedy the mental breakdown of implying to your best friend that maybe he should make a move on your other --

“Jun.”

“What?”

Minghao sighs. “You always beat around the bush. Gosh, you can be so --” Minghao pauses and closes his eyes for a brief second. “You can just tell me, you know. You like Jieqiong.”

Junhui’s jaw tenses and he’s lost the ability to blink. “No, wait --”

“And I know you know that I like her, too. I’m not blind. I’ve known you for thirteen years. I’m not dumb.”

“D-does she know?”

Minghao sighs again. “No, I haven’t told her anything. I know how much this whole friendship means to all of us.”

Junhui doesn’t understand how he can just be so straight up about all this. Minghao picks at the fringes of the new couch blanket.

“Great, so now we both have admitted it. But is there a resolution to this? I just don’t see how --”

Minghao cuts him off. “I’m just putting it out there so you don’t have to feel so suffocated. No more guesswork. I don’t even know either, but - well, you are important to me, Jun.”

“First of all, you didn’t have to imply that I’m feeling suffocated. You didn’t have to do this in the first place,” he finds himself saying. He knows he doesn’t mean it. He knows that Minghao really just wants him to be okay. He knows that Minghao is right that yes, recently, it feels like it’s been harder to breathe easy. In truth, he sort of hates that Minghao could just see right through him. “I just,” he pauses. “I’m sorry…”

Minghao gives him a thin smile. “Sometimes, I think I understand how you feel. I wonder if I’m looking at myself when I look at you.”

At that, Junhui hums in acknowledgment, and they sit in silence for a while.

“Maybe you should confess,” Junhui blurts out, another one of his moments that he may regret later. But he’s avoided the both of them long enough that maybe it wouldn’t hurt as bad now.

“If I did… would you be okay?” Minghao looks at him, something flashing in his eyes. “Be honest.”

Junhui swallows. “Honestly?” Minghao’s eyes are pleading. For what? The truth? He decides to tell the truth. “...No.” It’s the first time he’s admitted that to anyone, including himself.

He breathes in deeply. “Would _you_ be okay if…?” Junhui musters up the courage to ask.

His best friend looks away, now. “Honestly? Not really. I mean, I don’t know. I don’t know how to feel.”

Then why did he bring this up? If anything, it just confirms what Junhui already knows, which is to keep his distance. It numbs everything just a little.

“But, you know what, Jun?” Minghao speaks up now. “You should talk to her, at least. She misses you a lot, and I hate seeing her like this.”

The younger one gets up now, places a hand on Junhui’s shoulder, and squeezes briefly. After he leaves, Junhui is left to pick up the fragments of truth and has to decide what to do with them.

The irony does not escape him. Minghao has always been his compass. So why does he feel so lost?

  
  
  


 

 

 

 

He presses 2 on speed dial (Minghao is 1), and waits with bated breath for her to pick up. He almost decides to end the call prematurely when --

“Hello? Jun?” She sounds a bit breathless, too, on the other side.

“Hi,” he murmurs. He allows himself to smile a little. It’s nice to hear her voice again.

“I’ve missed you, stupid head.”

 _I’ve missed you too._ Junhui chuckles self-consciously. “Want to meet up tomorrow? I’ll come meet you after your class.”

A pause. “Okay,” she says. She almost sounds relieved.

  
  
  


 

 

 

 

He doesn’t really know what to expect, how to face someone after giving the cold shoulder. He never really does this, on purpose anyway, but he supposes there’s a first time for everything.

“You know,” Jieqiong says. She always starts sentences like this. Maybe he loves her for it, for all her idiosyncrasies. “I’ve waited two years for this.”

“For what?”

“To be closer with you.”

It’s too early to get his spirits up. She can’t mean -- His stomach twists inside out again. “I, I don’t know what you ---”

“Junhui.” Her eyes are searching his, and he sees glimpses of the same ache that he feels. They know this can’t be right. He doesn’t dare to hope.

“You know I just can’t --”

“At least, can I hear you say it? Even if we can’t - you know - I just need to know…”

“Say what?” Junhui’s self-resolve is crumbling, but he can’t let that on.

“I like you a lot.” It spills out of her mouth all at once. It sounds like music to his ears, but more like a sad symphony than a joyous waltz. He looks at her, in a bit of disbelief, but there’s that earnest desperation in her face, eyebrows furrowed, eyes wide and swimming with conflicting feelings. That’s exactly how he feels right now, too.

What he wants to say: _Thank you. I like you too. I have, for a while now. I wish we could be together._

But. Minghao. Them. Not being okay. Thirteen years. Jieqiong.

What he says instead: “I think we should stop.”

The question that comes to his mind, even as he says this: Stop? Stop what? What do they even have?

He’s usually not the one to set his foot down. But something has to give. Junhui doesn’t mind giving and giving and giving. He’s just not giving in the way that both of them want him to. It feels so wrong yet so right at the same time.

Her eyes start welling up with tears. He allows himself to briefly wrap their fingers together and give her hand a light squeeze. Lets go as soon as it begins. Even sad symphonies can be beautiful, he tells himself.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The truth is, Junhui really didn’t see that one coming.

It feels a bit like deja vu: he had looked at her, saw someone that he would like to love forever, and thought sadly to himself that there’s no going back to the way things were, even if he wanted to. The thing is that Jieqiong - he still can’t wrap his mind around it - she has feelings for him too. It leaves him all in a tangle, confused because this whole time he’d always thought Minghao would be best, _Minghao_ is the one they all deserve, and Junhui would rather be the one with something taken away from him instead of being the one to take away from someone else. The guilt overwhelms him.

  
  
  


 

 

 

 

In the end, no one takes away anything.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


(A year later:

They both decide to love Jieqiong quietly in their own ways. In the end, there’s a degree in which he can get used to the shifted shadows, to accept that this is just the status quo. At some point, the eyes adjust to the subdued darkness and the coolness begins to feel normal. He can appreciate the soft glow of the sun from the safety of the shade.

Maybe Minghao has always been the more resilient one. There is no way that Junhui can lose him. Another thing that Junhui realizes is that there’s no way that he can lose _to_ him. So he keeps holding on. Allows Jieqiong to style his hair when she insists, takes her to drink boba tea during midterm season, texts her good night once in a while.

“Hey Jun?”

“Hmm?”

Minghao turns to him one day, a small smile upon his lips. “I… I think you should ask Jieqiong out.”

Junhui almost spits out his drink. “What?”

"Yeah,” Minghao grins. There’s that faraway look in his eyes now. “Don’t tell anyone else this, but…”

Junhui holds his breath.

“I think… I like someone else now. I don’t know. It’s so strange for me. We’ve been hanging out a bit more recently, and I never thought… And yet…” Minghao trails off, a dumb smile on his face.

“Wait, really?” Junhui asks and sees him nod. “Man, Hao, I’m happy for you. Honestly.” He smothers him in his arms until Minghao reminds him that breathing is a necessity for life, so, could he please loosen the hug a little? Junhui laughs and lets go.

“I’m happy for you, too,” Minghao says, letting the words hang in the air. “Maybe get her some green tea ice cream while you’re at it.”

“You know, there is also always a red bean one waiting just for you too, Hao,” he replies.

They exchange grins. He thinks that he finally sees sunlight. The warmth spreads through his veins.)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


(“You know,” Jieqiong says. She always starts sentences like this. Maybe he loves her for it, for all her idiosyncrasies. “I’ve waited… for a long time.”

This time, Junhui smiles. Unabashed, nothing held back. Perhaps it even mirrors the morning sun. “I know,” is how he responds. He intertwines his fingers with hers, and this time, he doesn’t let go.

“I’ve waited a long time, too,” he breathes.

They step out of the shadows. It is music to his ears.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! would love to hear your thoughts <3


End file.
